


Cold day in July

by sixchord



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-01
Updated: 2012-10-01
Packaged: 2017-11-15 10:33:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/526342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sixchord/pseuds/sixchord
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles took the CD he found in Derek’s duffle bag.  He knew it was probably a bad idea to dig through a werewolf’s stuff, but whatever, he was curious and Derek never talked much so it was completely justified.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cold day in July

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is based on a prompt from the lovely MirajaneScarlet. She told me to write a fic about [this song](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uAbM7SKciQc), and I FINALLY finished it!!
> 
> Also I have a nasty feeling that this is going to turn into a series. So.

Stiles took the CD he found in Derek’s duffle bag.  He knew it was probably a bad idea to dig through a werewolf’s stuff, but whatever, he was curious and Derek never talked much so it was completely justified. 

The problem was, he’d kind of forgotten that Derek was actually still in the house, had just gone up to Boyd’s room for a minute to check on his unicorn bite.  (Because unicorns were real.  And unicorns were actually nasty little bastards with shark teeth and a taste for human flesh, and all the bestiaries had clearly been lying to him.)  He took a few minutes to rifle through Derek’s stuff because it had made sense at the time and he just had so many questions about the guy. 

He’d been so surprised that Derek actually owned things other than wifebeaters and leather jackets, that when Derek had walked in, he’d—accidentally!—stuffed the CD into his hoodie.

The edge of the case dug into his ribs as he climbed into his Jeep.  He took the CD out and set it on the passenger seat, carefully like it might break.  It was in a clear, blank case, was probably a burned CD or something.  Whatever it was, Derek must have cared enough about it to bring it all the way from New York.

He cranked the radio and drove home.

\--

When he got home, he put the CD on his pillow and stared at it.  He’d actually stolen something from Derek.  That was—not okay, definitely not okay.  When Derek found out, he would finally follow through on his threat to rip out Stiles’ throat, and then he would probably mail Stiles’ larynx to Scott just because.

Stiles grabbed the CD and stuck it into his computer.

The first song was Elvis.  What the hell.

The second song was Dashboard Confessional, which, okay, obviously Derek was a twelve-year-old girl.

After that Stiles lost track of songs and just curled up on his bed, staring at the ceiling, listening to the CD.  It was a weird mix, all over the place genre-wise.  He closed his eyes, and by the time Iron and Wine came on, he was almost asleep.

So, he wasn’t really expecting the Dixie Chicks.

\--

The next day he definitely didn’t answer the phone when Derek called him after school.  He didn’t even check his phone for texts.  And then, even though it had been a while, he was still paranoid, so he locked the window.

The way he figured, he could get away with not answering his phone.  He was busy, Derek was an asshole, maybe Stiles forgot to charge his phone, whatever—there were plenty of reasons he could have not answered.  Reasons that had nothing to do with the stolen CD still in his computer.

Derek never called him unless someone was dying, so he was generally pretty good about answering, but—it probably had nothing to do with that at all. 

So he called Scott.

“Hey dude, what’s up?” Scott said.

“Are you okay?” Stiles said.

“What?  Yeah, of course.  Are _you_ okay?”  Scott paused.  “Wait, why, what’s going on, is everybody okay, wait have you called Allison, is she—“

“Jesus,” Stiles said.  “I just wanted to make sure because Derek called me and—“

“But you called Allison?”

Stiles breathed deeply through his nose.  “How about you call Allison and I’ll call Lydia?”  He hung up then, because Scott was such a drama queen sometimes.  He stared at his phone for a few more minutes before sighing and going to his contacts.

Derek picked up on the third ring.  “What?” he said.

“You rang?” Stiles said, twisting his fingers into the hem of his shirt, feeling oddly like a girl from an old movie, the kind who played hard to get and wore tight sweaters.  Not that he was playing hard to get.  Not at all.

“Isaac was using my phone,” Derek said.  “Something about vampires.”

“They’re not real, we’ve been over this.”  Stiles fumbled with his computer, trying to get the disc drive open.  The button was acting up again, so he smashed the keys for a few seconds, until—

Suddenly the Dixie Chicks blared over his speakers.

He slammed his computer shut and choked back a really unmanly noise.

“That was definitely not your—anyways, I should go and—“

“Stiles,” Derek said, “I’m coming over.”  He hung up.

For at least five minutes, Stiles scrambled around his room, looking for a hiding place for the CD.  He considered leaving the house and—no, Derek would probably just follow his scent or whatever, it was really creepy how the wolves could do that.  Obviously the only answer was just to lie.  Maybe he could convince Derek that he had always loved the Dixie Chicks (he legitimately had such a weakness for that one “Landslide” song so it wasn’t even a lie).

When Derek climbed through his window, he was totally ready.

Of course, the instant he saw Derek’s face, all blank and unfairly attractive, he blurted, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to take it, you just surprised me and—“

“I knew you took it,” Derek said.  “I was just waiting for you to admit it.”

Stiles blinked.  “Oh?”

“You aren’t as subtle as you think you are.”  Derek shrugged and sat on Stiles’ desk.  “But good try.”

Stiles definitely did not pout.  He was way too manly and awesome and—whatever, he was totally sneaky and subtle, it wasn’t his fault Derek was a werewolf.  He held out the CD, looking at the wall behind Derek’s shoulder.

“So, the Dixie Chicks, huh?” he said.

Derek quirked an eyebrow up and looked almost amused.  He took the CD.  “Laura made it,” he said. 

Stiles had known Derek long enough to interpret his varying levels of monotone, so he knew that Derek was actually saying a lot more, but he still had the emotional range of a teaspoon and had trouble saying what he meant.  “It’s pretty awesome,” he said.  “She had good taste.”

“Yeah,” Derek said.  He turned the case over in his hands, looked down at it.  “Yeah, she did.”


End file.
